


I Already Do

by sixxstiel



Series: Divine Intervention: On Holiday [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 16:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10166780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixxstiel/pseuds/sixxstiel
Summary: Dean has a plan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [oceanbluecas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanbluecas).

It was the day before Valentine’s Day, and Dean was standing in his apartment, debating on starting some laundry. He’d just finished cleaning the kitchen, but he felt that one chore didn’t make up for the majority of the housework Cas had done in the past two months. Dean had really let his own housekeeping slide since Cas moved in, and it wasn’t fair at all, but he was working on it. Besides, he was bored, and Cas was locked away in the spare bedroom—which Cas was now calling a “study”.  
   
“Dean?”  
   
Cas’s voice calling to him from across the apartment was a relief, freeing him momentarily from the chores. Dean darted to the spare room and knocked gently on the door. When Cas called him in, Dean leaned against the open doorway with a loose grin and his arms crossed over his chest. “What’s up, buttercup?”  
   
Sitting at his desk, Cas rolled his eyes at the nickname and countered with his own question. “Why do you keep knocking? You know you don’t have to.”  
   
Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I still think of this as your room.”  
   
“This hasn’t been ‘my’ room for almost a month.”  
   
Dean made his way to Cas’s side and leaned against the desk. “I know, but it’s just kinda ingrained, I guess.”  
   
His boyfriend raised an eyebrow. “This was Sam’s room before it was ever mine.”  
   
“Yeah, well, I got over it being his, and I’ll get over it being yours eventually, too,” Dean grumbled before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Cas’s hairline. When he pulled back, a saucy smirk tilted his lips up. “I like your new bedroom better, anyway. In fact, I think we should go break it in some more, don’t you?”  
   
Castiel’s hands darted forward, hooking his fingers through Dean’s belt loops and pulling him closer to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist. Pressing his cheek against the soft t-shirt over Dean’s belly, Cas nuzzled it affectionately. “What did I say about today, Dean?”  
   
Dean sighed in defeat. He ran his fingers affectionately through Cas’s hair and recited, “’You will not distract me today, Dean Winchester. I have a project with a deadline, and if you want your Valentine’s Day gift, you’ll leave me alone to finish it. Failure to comply will result in forfeiting your gift and Sam learning you have a fear of guinea pigs.’” Dean rolled his eyes, trailing fingers down Cas’s neck. “Which is totally unfair, by the way. I mean, _you_ called me in here.”  
   
Cas raised his head to look at Dean with a smirk. “It was for a reason. Have you started on dinner yet?”  
   
Dean frowned. “No,” he said, quickly adding before Cas could respond, “I know, I know. It’s late. We won’t have time for an after dinner movie tonight, but hey, I cleaned the kitchen!”  
   
Cas chuckled. “It’s alright, Dean. I actually thought we might go out to dinner tonight.”  
   
Dean’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Really?”  
   
Nodding, Cas said, “We haven’t done anything even remotely like a ‘date’ in a while.”  
   
“You made dinner last night,” Dean pointed out, “Even if it sucked.”  
   
Cas poked him in the ribs, teasing. “When you asked me to cook, you should’ve considered the lack of ingredients in the kitchen. Grilled cheese was the only possible outcome.”  
   
“Oh!” Dean grinned. “I knocked out another chore today too! Grocery shopping! Haven’t done that in a while, either.”  
   
“Obviously,” Cas joked. “Did you remember—”  
   
“Yup, got your fancy toothpaste.”  
   
“What about—”  
   
“And the baby spinach instead of the regular stuff.”  
   
“And—”  
   
Dean silenced his boyfriend with a quick peck to the lips. “I got it, babe, don’t worry. I’ve lived with you long enough to know your preferences.” He smiled. “I know _you_.”  
   
“Yes, you do,” Cas said, relaxing against Dean again. He allowed himself a moment more to enjoy Dean’s fingers on his scalp before gently nudging him away. “Give me half an hour to finish, and then we can go.”  
   
Dean hummed his acknowledgment, but didn’t budge. Instead, he cupped Castiel’s jaw and pulled him in for a kiss—deep, quick, and dirty. “Make it fast. I’m in a hurry to get you back home again already.”  
   
“Mmm,” Cas sighed, eyes still closed, “We could always just skip dinner.”  
   
“No,” Dean answered, tone low and seductive, “I want to give you plenty of time to think about what I might have planned for you later.”  
   
Cas threw his pencil down, eyes alight with heat as he said, “Let’s go now, then.”  
   
Dean’s smile grew wicked, already feeling the stirrings of arousal at the sight of Cas’s excitement, but as he followed his boyfriend to the apartment’s front door, he found himself chuckling instead. He reached out to cover Cas’s hand with own over the doorknob. “Babe, wait, wait!”  
   
“What?” Cas snapped, giving Dean a disapproving glare over his shoulder. “The sooner we leave—”  
   
“Shoes, Cas,” Dean laughed gleefully. Cas was adorable, and so excitable it made Dean doubly so. “Keys. Coats. Those things are kinda important.”  
   
A light blush colored Cas’s cheeks. “Of course, right, yes.” He fumbled into his coat and boots while Dean did the same, then handed the keys over. Unexpectedly, Castiel was quiet the entire ride to restaurant, showing none of his earlier enthusiasm. It worried Dean, but he knew better than to ask. Cas would come clean when he was ready.  
   
Dean opted for silent comfort instead. He reached across the front seat and took Cas’s hand in his own, and even went so far as to open the Impala’s door for him once they arrived, and then held the restaurant door open for him as well—though that may have been for purely selfish reasons. Cas had a nice figure and Dean did so enjoy looking at him from behind.  
   
Naturally, Dean’s ogling didn’t escape his boyfriend, and when he looked up from that nice, pert ass, he found Cas smirking at him. With a wink, Cas made Dean’s entire face heat up with a blush, the flirty fucker.  
   
It was a minor miracle that the hostess was able accommodate their request and seat them at a quiet booth near the back, especially this close to Valentine’s Day. Dean sometimes wondered if they had gained favor with a higher being or something.  
   
Castiel made small talk about his work, seemingly feeling better now, and expressed a small bit of pride in his plans for his next project. Dean was content to listen to anything Cas had to say, and his own heart swelled with pride over how far his lover had come in such a short period of time.  
   
After their waitress walked away, order written down and their drinks in front of them, Dean reached across the table to take Castiel’s hand, ignoring his growing anxiety. “So you know my uncle Bobby is getting married in June.”  
   
“I’m aware. I was there when you got the invitation,” Cas teased.  
   
“Right, yeah,” Dean muttered, inhaling deeply to calm himself, and then talked past his nerves. “I was kinda hoping you’d be my date.”  
   
Cas stared, open mouthed and wide eyed, for several excruciatingly long moments before speaking. “You want me— _me_ —to be your date for a _family_ function? And it’s—in what, five months from now?”  
   
Dean furrowed his brow, not quite following. “Yeah…?”  
   
Cast motioned between the two of them with his free hand. “How do you even know that we’ll still be together?”  
   
“Well, I mean,” Dean floundered, “I don’t, I guess, but from my end—I mean, shit. Cas, I told you what my end game with you is.”  
   
Dean knew he had a mess of emotions—worry, concern, and confusion—written all over his face, and when Cas turned away, refusing to look at him, it hurt.  
   
“Cas?” He prompted, gently tugging on his boyfriend’s hand. “Is that not what you want, too?”  
   
Sighing, Cas shrugged. “I—I think it is, but—”  
   
Dean’s jaw dropped, and he snatched his hand away from Castiel’s. There was a burning ache in his chest from Cas’s words, and he fought it, wanting to remain calm and reasonable, but Cas’s hesitation _hurt_. “I thought we were on the same page, Cas. I thought you wanted to be together.”  
   
“I…” Cas trailed off, biting his lip.  
   
Recognizing Cas’s thinking face, Dean allowed him a few moments of silence to gather his thoughts, but Dean’s own where a cacophony of doubt and fear of the unknown. He couldn’t remain patient for long, and after their food was delivered and the hostess left again, he softly spoke up. “Cas?”  
   
Finally, Cas looked at him. “Dean, you don’t know about me. You don’t know what I’ve done, or how… Or how I got here.”  
   
Dean furrowed his brow. “Okay? So tell me, Cas. I haven’t pushed, and I told you I’d wait, but fuck, Cas. It’s been two months and you haven’t said a word about it. And that’s _fine_ , babe, but I’d rather not let it come between us. I love you, Cas, and nothing will change that.”  
   
Cas looked away again, the guilty expression on his face directed at his mashed potatoes, and Dean had enough.  
   
Dean shoved his chair back and stood. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that every time I tell you I love you, you don’t say it back. You just kiss me—which, yeah, great distraction—but I still notice. You hold yourself back because of this oh-so-shady past you claim to have but won’t fucking talk about it so we can work through it, and it’s fucking maddening. I can’t help you if you won’t let me, dammit!” He could feel the eyes of other diners on them, but he didn’t care. He picked up his wine glass, downed the liquid all in one gulp, and set it back down. He turned, refusing to look at his boyfriend, and said as calmly as he could, “I won’t keep you trapped in a relationship that you clearly don’t want to be in.”  
   
And then he left.  
   
Cas sat, eyes wide and stinging with unshed tears, and watched Dean disappear out the front doors. He remained there, barely touching his food, waiting for Dean to come back. He didn’t.  
   
This was not how Cas had imagined starting their Valentine’s Day weekend.  
   
~  
Dean drove.  
   
He didn’t know where he was or where he was going, but he knew he was upset. He needed the calm of the Impala’s tires rolling over pavement, the wind through the window, and the tunes from the radio, and just space to _breathe_. He felt a little guilty leaving Cas to pay for the wasted meal, but at least Cas had money for a cab and house keys to get back home with. Dean wasn’t _that_ much of a dick.  
   
Still, Dean was pissed. More so, he was hurt.  
   
The entire time they’d been together, Dean had thought they’d wanted the same things. He was aware of Castiel’s past, though they’d never really discussed it. Everything from before Cas met him seemed to be taboo to even comment on, even if it was just Dean gently reminding Cas that he wanted to know, but that he was willing to wait as long as it took for Cas to open up.  
   
The thing was, it’d already been two months, and Cas hadn’t offered a damn thing. Dean didn’t expect an entire backstory, of course, but he had hoped for _something_. It made him worry that maybe Cas didn’t care enough about their relationship to open up—that maybe he didn’t care enough about _Dean_.  
   
Dean pulled the Impala to a stop, not entirely surprised to find himself parked across the street from their apartment building. Even pissed beyond all belief at Cas, he still wanted to make sure his boyfriend had made it home safely.  
   
The lights were still off, and Dean resigned himself to wait and worry, dropping his forehead to rest against the steering wheel. He gently banged his head against it, guilt digging its claws into his chest.  
   
Bobby’s wedding had been too much too soon. If anything, Dean should’ve just casually mentioned it the moment he got the invite instead of putting Cas on the spot like that. But no, he’d had to make a big deal about it. He just _had_ to try and be romantic, spring it on him just before Valentine’s Day during dinner at _their_ restaurant, and then when Cas—sweet, self-deprecating, and overly cautious Cas—had balked at the idea, Dean had reacted terribly.  
   
Dean could hear Sam’s voice in his head, reprimanding him. _Anger is a secondary emotion, Dean. Don’t express your own pain by inflicting more on others_.  
   
And Dean had practically told Cas their relationship was over because he wouldn’t say three little words.  
   
Dean lifted his head and cursed at his own selfish stupidity. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text to Cas. When no reply came, he sent another.  
   
After ten minutes of silence, he came to the conclusion that he was being ignored, and hit the DIAL button.  
   
The call went straight to voicemail.  
   
“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered softly, right before the beep prompted him to leave a message. “Hi, babe. I don’t wanna have this talk over voicemail. I don’t think apologizing this way would really make up for what an ass I was to you. I’m gonna go to the store, get some wine or beer or something. I’ll text you when I’m headed home.” He paused, unsure if he should say the next words, but went for honesty. “I love you, Cas.”  
   
He hung up and stared at blank screen, hoping and fearing a reply.  
   
None came.  
   
In the time Dean sat there, waiting for a light in his apartment to flick on, he thought long and hard about what he wanted to say to Cas when he got home. He was also worried that Cas just wouldn’t _come_ home, so desperation led to him typing it out on the little keyboard on his phone.  
   
He spent a long time composing. He typed, backspaced, scrapped entire messages, but eventually, he was able to put into words what he’d been hoping to say to Cas over the phone.  
   
Dean looked up after sending the last text and was flooded with relief to see a dim light exiting his apartment’s window. Cas _had_ come home, safe and sound.  
   
Dean started the car and headed to the liquor store.  
   
~  
   
Almost an hour after Dean had walked out, Cas found himself sitting on the stoop of their apartment building, worriedly wondering if Dean was going to come home to him tonight or if he should start getting used to sleeping alone again. Yes, it was the middle of February and it was freezing out, but Cas didn't feel it. He’d been cold the second Dean had walked out of the restaurant.  
   
Releasing a long sigh, Cas pulled out his phone to check for messages from the other man only to find that his phone was dead.  
   
“Son of a fucking bitch,” Cas muttered as he jumped up to let himself in the door. He quickly crossed the small lobby to the stairwell and climbed up to the fourth floor. Letting himself into the apartment, Cas flipped on the lightswitch resulting in absolutely nothing. The room remained shrouded in shadow.  
   
“Fuckkk . . .” He drew out the word, as his anger level went from slightly upset to royally pissed off.  
   
How _dare_ Dean leave him sitting in a restaurant—alone—the night before Valentine’s Day. How dare _Dean_ act like Cas was the only one who had baggage in this relationship? And how _dare Dean_ spring a family function on him with absolutely no warning?   
   
How the hell was Cas supposed to react? Did Dean _really_ think, for one minute, that Cas was _expecting_ an invitation as his plus one to his uncle Bobby’s wedding—five _months_ from now? They had yet to discuss what they were doing next month, if anything, for Saint Patrick’s Day or even Sam’s birthday (which was more than a month _before_ Bobby’s wedding) and Dean thought Cas just _knew_ he was going to be going—as Dean’s date, no less!  
   
Cas’ anger propelled him through the small living area to the kitchen where he flipped on _that_ lightswitch, flooding the tiny kitchen with fluorescent light.  
   
“Goddamn it, Dean,” Cas spoke to the empty room.  
   
Tossing his phone on the counter, Cas quickly shrugged off his coat and stalked back across the room to hang it on the rack next to the entrance. Hearing a shuffling just outside the door and thinking it may be Dean, he pulled open the door to reveal his neighbor across the hall, who had only just moved in but made Cas uncomfortable.  
   
_Shit, I don’t want to deal with him._ Cas tried to close the door before he was seen, but failed.  
   
“Evening, Castiel.”  
   
“Good evening, Mr. Crowley.”  
   
Crowley craned his neck to see beyond Cas. “Is young Mr. Winchester not at home?”  
   
“No,” Cas admitted. Not wanting to tell their story to the strange man from across the hall, he added, “Dean ran to the store.”  
   
“Ahh, lovely,” Crowley stated. “Well, you two have a nice evening.”  
   
“We will. You too, sir.”  
   
Before closing his door, Crowley tacked on, “I hope you have a pleasant Valentine’s Day tomorrow, love.”  
   
Cas stood in the doorway for a brief moment before closing his own door. He moved across to the kitchen in order to retrieve his phone so he could plug it in to be charged. After taking care of that, Cas went to the bedroom, changing into sweats and a long sleeved henley before curling up on the couch under a warm blanket, waiting for Dean to arrive home. A few minutes later, he heard the startup noise alerting him that his phone had been charged enough to turn back on and then his phone pinged several times. Cas began to get up, but decided he was irritated enough at his boyfriend that he’d wait a while before checking the messages Dean left him.  
   
Just over a half hour later, Dean came waltzing through the door with a bouquet of multi-colored roses, two red carnations, a white carnation—and a bottle of wine.   
   
Noticing Cas sitting on the couch in the almost pitch black room, Dean stopped. “Hey, Cas.”  
   
Cas stared at Dean, open mouthed, while fury caused his eyes light up like a summer storm. “‘ _Hey_ , _Cas_?’ Is that _all_ you have to say to me?”  
   
“I . . .uh . . .”  
   
“Are you serious, Dean? After _everything_ you put me through these last few hours, you don’t have the _decency_ to tell me what the hell happened?” he asked. When Dean remained silent, Cas added, “Or why the _fuck_ you left me sitting in _our_ restaurant!”  
   
Dean quickly crossed the room so he could sit beside him.  “Here,” he murmured as he thrust the roses at Cas.  
   
Taking the flowers Dean offered from him, Cas gestured at Dean with them. “Do you really think flowers are going to get you out of trouble?”  
   
“I called you several times, left you four messages and sent like ten texts—”  
   
“And _that_ makes up for leaving me _stranded_ at a restaurant—the night before Valentine’s Day?” Cas heard his voice raising, but couldn’t stop it; he was _so_ angry at Dean.  
   
“No, no, of course not, but I did _tell_ you where I was.” With the carnations still in hand, Dean gestured to the kitchen where Cas’ phone had to be since it wasn’t sitting on the end table next to him.  
   
Snorting, Cas asked, “Again, you really think that is sufficient?”  
   
“I don’t, Cas,” Dean sighed. “But I’m trying to apologize.” He stood up and began to pace the length of the room.  
   
Dean didn’t continue after starting his trip from the couch to the kitchen and back.  
   
Cas followed Dean’s path with curious eyes. After a few minutes, Cas began, “Will you . . .” he pointed to the couch.  
   
Instead, Dean stopped pacing and asked, “Are you going to look at the messages?”  
   
Rather than reply, Cas stared at Dean, eyes narrowing in confusion.  
   
Taking off his coat, Dean crossed to the kitchen, tossing his jacket on the back of a chair on his way. He then retrieved Cas’ phone and brought it to him. “The messages I sent you—are you going to read them?” he asked, holding the phone out to Cas.  
   
Cas blinked at Dean as he took the phone. “You . . . you want me to read the messages you sent me?”  
   
Dean nodded.  
   
“Instead of telling me what you said, you want me to read them?” Cas repeated, a third time.  
   
“Yeah, Cas,” Dean replied, resuming his pacing. “It took me a while to compose that message and I don’t know if I told you what they said that it would come out the right way.” He gave a small smile. “You know I sometimes . . . have a problem putting what I’m thinking into words.” Walking back to the couch, he sat with his back against the arm so he was facing his boyfriend. “Will you please read them?”  
   
Sighing, Cas swiped his finger across the screen to unlock the phone. The first was less than ten minutes after Dean had stormed out. He began reading.  
   
7:22pm _I’m sorry, babe._  
   
7:28pm _You’re not ignoring me, are you?_  
   
7:39pm _Will you please answer me, Cas?_  
   
7:42pm _Cas?_  
   
8:15pm _Ok, I guess you’re not gonna answer; I’m going to say what I have to say and hope that you’ll at least read it, even if you don’t reply. Here it goes: I love you_  
   
_8:15pm Cas. I don’t know what I was thinking when I walked out on our date tonight. I should have never told you that you clearly didn’t want to be in this relationship._  
   
8:15pm _I’m not you; I have no idea what’s going on in your head. I promised you that I wouldn’t push you and I went back on that. I swear that will be the last_  
   
8:16pm _time I break a promise to you. I WILL wait until you’re ready; I WILL listen to what your thoughts are on where you want this relationship to go when you’re_  
   
8:16pm _ready to share them with me. I will ALWAYS love you, baby. Always_ — _there is nothing that you could do, say or even think that would change that._  
   
8:25pm _Cas, I’m on my way home. I should be there in about a half hour or so. I love you._  
   
Cas read each message a second time, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Finally letting the phone fall into his lap, he turned to face Dean.  
   
“I will tell you everything, Dean. I will, but I—”  
   
“I know you will, Cas.”  
   
Cas gave him a small smile. “I just need a little more time.”  
   
Dean scooted over the couch so he was pressed up against Cas. He gently took Cas’ hand in his. “I understand, babe,” he said as he rubbed his thumb over the back of Cas’ hand. “I do. And I promise I’ll wait until you bring it up.”  
   
Cas gently brushed his finger against one of the carnations Dean still held. “What are those for?”  
   
Pushing them into Cas’ hand, Dean answered, “For you.”  
   
Giving a short laugh, he nodded. “I figured that, but why?”  
   
“Well,” Dean touched the white carnation, “the guy at the flower shop said that this meant pure love.” He placed a single finger on one of the red carnations, “And he said these meant love, pride and admiration.” Dean gave a half smile. “All of which I feel more and more each time I look at you, Cas.”  
   
“Dean—”  
   
He continued as if Cas hadn't said a word. “I know you can’t say the words, and, until you feel comfortable enough to say them to me, I’m going to take every opportunity I can to say them to you. Because I don’t want you to _ever_ doubt that I love you.” He lifted his hand to cup Cas’ chin when the other man began to duck his head. “I mean it, Cas—I don’t want you to ever think I’ve stopped loving you. The day that happens will be the day this planet stops spinning.”  
   
“Dean . . .”  
   
Dean pulled Cas closer to place a gentle kiss to Cas’ lips, and when he pulled back enough to focus on Cas, he whispered, “Yeah, Cas?”  
   
“Can we try dinner again tomorrow?”  
   
“Of course we can.” Dean’s stomach grumbled. “I guess I should find something to eat.”  
   
Dean started to get up, but Cas placed a hand on Dean’s thigh to stop him. “I’ll get you something, Dean.”  
   
“You don’t have—”  
   
Cas stood up, cutting him off. “I know I don’t _have_ to Dean, but I want to.”  
   
“If you’re sure . . .”  
   
“I am.”  
   
Dean nodded and Cas kissed his forehead before heading to the kitchen.  
   
Several moments passed before Dean called out, “Hey, Cas?”  
   
Stepping out of the kitchen to look at Dean, Cas asked, “Yes?”  
   
“I was wondering . . .”  
   
When Dean failed to continue, Cas quietly prodded, “Wondering what?”  
   
Bright green eyes stared into dark blue ones for a several seconds before Dean swallowed hard and finished his thought, “Am I still in trouble?”  
   
Abandoning the food he was preparing in the kitchen, Cas held Dean’s gaze as he crossed the small living room. Kneeling in front of Dean, Cas began, “You _are_ still in trouble.”  
   
Dean lowered his head. “I said I was sorry, Cas.”  
   
“Yes, you did, Dean. That doesn’t mean that leaving me stranded at our restaurant is ok. Or that I’m just going to forget that you told me you thought I didn’t want this,” Cas said, ducking his head to look into Dean’s eyes as he gestured between them. “I don’t know how you think I could ever live without you.”   
   
Suddenly, Cas stood up and crossed the room to the little media center Dean had set up in the corner which housed his radio and their small cassette collection. Cas searched through the tapes.   
   
He had planned on sharing this with Dean tomorrow as part of their Valentine’s Day celebration—taking Dean to the karaoke bar they occasionally went to and telling him how much Dean meant to him—but this was more their style. Grand gestures weren’t something they did, and Cas should have known that something would inevitably happen to make his carefully laid out plans obsolete.  
   
After digging around for a minute, Cas found the tape he was searching for. Pushing the button for the player to open so he could insert his tape, Cas smiled, knowing Dean would never expect this. He slotted the tape in the player and turned to face Dean, pausing for a brief moment before saying, “I can’t say the words you want me to, and for that I’m sorry, but, maybe this will tell you what I can’t put into words.”  
   
Dean tilted his head in question as Cas reached behind him and pressed play.  
   
As the soft music floated out from the small speakers of the old radio, Cas closed his eyes, unsure of how Dean would react to this particular song.  
   
_Cautions in the wind_  
_The hardest part is through_  
_You don’t have to try so hard_  
_To make me fall for you_  
   
Cas opened one eye to peek at Dean  
   
_I’ve surprised myself_  
_With what I’ve gone and done_  
_Just today I heard myself_  
_Swear you were the one_  
   
Dean was still sitting on the couch, his eyes darting between the radio and Cas.   
   
_Laugh, I just have to laugh_  
_I really thought you knew_  
_I can’t believe_  
_That you’re asking me_  
_When I will love you_  
_I already do_  
_I already do_  
   
When Dean saw Cas’ eye was open, he stood up to trek across the room.  
   
_You’ve been doing fine_  
_Please don’t change a thing_  
_It’s too good to hide away_  
_So I might as well come clean_  
   
Cas closed his eyes, waiting for Dean’s arms to wrap around him. A second later he was not disappointed.  
   
_I didn’t shout it out_  
_But everybody knew_  
_Funny you’re the only one who didn’t have a clue_  
   
Dean leaned in, placing a light kiss to Cas’ lips.  
   
_Laugh, I just have to laugh_  
_I really thought you knew_  
_I can’t believe_  
_That you’re asking me_  
_When I will love you_  
_I already do_  
_I already do_  
   
_I gave you my heart_  
_Can’t you feel the power_  
_You want to see the light_  
_Baby the sun’s been up for hours_  
   
_Laugh, I just have to laugh_  
_I really thought you knew_  
_I can’t believe_  
_That you’re asking me_  
_When I will love you_  
_I already do_  
_I already do_  
   
As the music faded, Dean pulled back. “Cas?”  
   
“Those are the words I’ve been too scared to say, but I . . . I knew I would at least have the courage to let this song say what I feel in my heart.”  
   
Dean pulled Cas in for another kiss. When they finally broke apart, Dean cocked his head and then let out a burst of laughter.  
   
“Why are you laughing, Dean?”  
   
Dean pointed to the media stand behind Cas, then gently spun them around so they were both able to see it.  
   
There, next to the cassette case, was a single red rose.  
   
“ _That_ was not there when you went looking through the tapes for this one,” Dean said as he gestured to the tape that was still playing.  
   
“No,” Cas agreed. “It wasn’t.” He turned to look at Dean. “Should we call a . . .”  
   
“Call a what?” Dean asked when his boyfriend trailed off.  
   
“I don’t know, a gardener, maybe?” he suggested.  
   
Dean let out another laugh. “No, Cas.”  
   
“Why not?”  
   
“We don’t need one.”  
   
Cas looked at Dean, his blue eyes narrowed in confusion. “We don’t?”  
   
“No, Cas,” he repeated.  
   
“How do we not need one?” Cas inquired. “We’ve got flowers randomly showing up around the apartment.”  
   
Giving a half smile, Dean answered, “It’s not something a gardener would be able to help us with.”  
   
“What could be causing this?”  
   
Dean glanced up to the ceiling. “I think we’ve got an angel watching over us.”


End file.
